


See Us And We're Holy

by ix_tab



Series: This Is What Love Looks Like [1]
Category: Professional Wrestling, 新日本プロレス | New Japan Pro-Wrestling
Genre: Golden Lovers, M/M, equal amounts feelings and sex, sometimes that's how it is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2018-03-05
Packaged: 2019-03-27 10:10:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13878699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ix_tab/pseuds/ix_tab
Summary: Kenny and Kota have years of history to work through, but maybe the discussion doesn't always have to be entirely verbal. They've always known how to communicate through their bodies, after all.





	See Us And We're Holy

**Author's Note:**

> I've been captured in the good good web of Golden Lovers feelings. I'm very new to wrestling as a whole, please forgive any little inaccuracies. I hope I've done this beautiful, complex, sweet relationship justice.
> 
> Title from Erin McKeown's excellent song, "The Queer Gospel".

“You’ve made me into a homewrecker, Kenny,” Kota says, tone light enough that Kenny knows its joking but with a little sting of truth in it. 

He winces a little, making his way over to the bed where Kota is laying on his side, kneels down and lets out a surprised gasp of breath as Kota effortlessly pulls him up, over, to lay beside him.

Kenny, helpless to refuse Kota’s hands now he’s let them back into his life, drawn to Kota, moth to Kota’s steady burning flame.

“Ehhh. Yeah. God. I’ve done a lot of things poorly. I hurt you, I’m hurting Matt and Nick and Marty…” Kenny trails off. It’s too huge to think about and he doesn’t want to sink into that useless dark place. 

Besides, it wasn’t Kota’s job to haul him out of there. He’s bone weary of the depression and self hate that gnaws at him, and he wants to fight, to strive against it, not let it eat him up.

He wants to stand together as a perfect, united whole, burnished golden and bright, not being propped up, not owning up to his shit.

Kota rolls to face him, serious but not grim. Kenny can’t help but smile just a little bit more. Part of him wants to think about it like the years have melted away, time reversed but it’s more then that, better then that. Kota is here, he is here, older, smarter, and braver then he’d been. 

It had taken years to learn that bravery meant honesty in the face of failure and rejection. He’d always thought about it meaning taking risks, risking his body, health, relationships to push harder, rise higher, win.

“I can’t fix everything, I can’t smooth it all over. I can’t take back the bullshit things I’ve done and said. But I can be better. No, I am better…better with you with me, and I want to…” Kenny is rambling, earnest, trying his best to make Kota understand. Kota smiles a little, losing the seriousness. 

He interrupts Kenny’s spiel by rolling on top of him, briefly pressing him into the bed, and then pulling back his weight, to not squash his partner.

Kenny breathes again, losing the train of his thought as he thinks about how much he wants that weight back on him, holding him in place. Kota, the anchor he recklessly cut the chain off from and now is back, steadying him. He wants to be Kota’s anchor too.

“Tell them. Make them understand. This isn’t..this isn’t about friendship. It isn’t about taking sides. Let them see you. See us,” Kota says but with a gentleness that makes Kenny’s face flush, tears hot and heavy behind his eyes again. 

“I…will. I have to. Not just for us, I think but for me. They’re my friends, brothers, teammates. All of that. But I let them get away with misunderstandings, assumptions because…it was easier. But…fuck it. I’m not ashamed of you, I never was. You were the best thing in the world and I was scared of how much I...I don’t know. Just scared of it all, too wrapped up in my own head,” Kenny mutters. 

It is scary, being suddenly made aware of how much he’d bought into his own web of faked bravado. That’s not where he ever wants to be again, and he feels that swell of self loathing rise up inside.

Kenny presses his face into Kota’s clean smelling, smooth neck. He’s still wearing a tshirt and sweatpants but Kota had stripped off his shirt ages ago. The warmth of Kota bleeds through, settling him, ship using the lighthouse to navigate to shore.

“I’m just a person, Kenny. I’m not better or worse then anyone else. I get irritated, I mess up too. Don’t put me up on a pedestal. We’re in this together,” Kota says firmly and Kenny laugh-sighs into his neck, brushing his lips against that solid skin, and a shudder runs through Kota. Kenny can feel him through the sweats, as entwined as they are.

Having a heart to heart conversation when his heart is beginning to pound, demanding a different sort of intimacy adds a layer of difficulty. Kenny wants to be up to the challenge, tries to ignore the part of him yelling about familiar skin, and heavier muscles and lips he hasn’t been able to stop kissing since they reunited.

Kota laughs again, a little self deprecating. “If we are talking about deception, I’m not calm. I want...I don’t just want to step into the ring, I want to make them hurt for what’s happened to you. I don’t want to see anyone else touch you. I’m struggling too, I don’t want to be possessive, demanding," Kota winces a little as he speaks.

Kenny feels it, deep in his gut. No matter what it was, getting shame out in the open is hard, like resetting a badly healed bone so it could truly be fixed.  
  
He doesn’t like the self recrimination in Kota’s tone. But, and he can’t really feel that same shame, because the primal animal part of his brain flares up in delight.

Kota wants him, wants him bad enough to feel out of control.  
  
“Whose ‘they’, Bu-san? Who are you riding in on your white horse to rescue me from?” Kenny lifts his face to look Kota in the eyes and grins a little. It’s a force that keeps hitting him over and over, the love that he’s tried to push down, now blazing up inside of him   
  
As he asks, only kidding a little about Kota acting like a prince from some corny fairy tale, he strokes Kota’s back, their loose embrace giving him the space to comfort, to show him that he wasn’t actually making fun.  
  
Kota loses the introspection in his expression and grins back, mouth lifting in the corner.  
  
“Honestly? All of them. The bucks, bullet club, promoters, homophobes thinking they are our fans, the universe…I’m ready anytime,” Kota trails off thoughtfully and Kenny can’t help the gleeful laugh that explodes from him, for a second and ends up a snort. He flushes at Kota’s amusement.  
  
“You don’t need to fight my battles for me, against anyone. We can fight together,” and Kenny pauses, swallowing down the nerves that were creeping back up  
  
“And I…I wouldn’t mind a little possessiveness, if we’re being honest,” Kenny feels his voice get softer and the annoying blush he has been sporting on and off reach his ears, his face red with it.  
  
Kota drops his smile and for a devastating split second Kenny is terrified that he’s ruined everything.  
  
And then Kota’s big, strong, beautiful hands grab his hips with unmistakable intent, and he grinds down, as Kenny instinctively spreads his legs to accommodate the movement, arching his back to give as good as he was getting.  
  
“So I can’t fight your battles but you want me to express how I’m feeling, what I want to do to you? Or to anyone who thinks they can get between us?” Kota asks casually, like he’s talking about the weather and not making Kenny squirm and pant underneath him.  
  
“Fuck! Yes? I don’t know, I don’t know…I need more, come on,” Kenny gets out the words between his clenched teeth. He had not been expecting to get to begging for it quite so fast.  
  
Kota’s grip becomes almost vicious and Kenny feels himself get harder as he realises there are going to be finger print bruises on his hips from this. Let anyone in the locker room talk about how he and Kota are just good friends now.

“What if I did fight for you, for us by myself for a little while? What if you just had to rest and recuperate? You’ve strained your neck a little, but what if it was something else?” Kota continues and Kenny is trying to piece together what Kota is saying through his haze.  _Come on, Omega, think with your head, not your dick for a second_ , and blinks up at Kota.

“I don’t understand, what do you mean? I want to be there with you, you know that, right? ” He manages to get out before throwing his head back as Kota pulls his shirt off him roughly, a little awkwardly, and he’s dazed again, briefly caught in the cloth before Kota is back in sight.

Those hands are now under his waistband, and he feels like he’s never needed something more then Kota to lead wherever this was going.

“I mean, what if you had to stay down because I fucked you through the bed. What if you couldn’t walk without everyone seeing, everyone knowing. And you could say, oh I’m limping, having trouble walking because I’m just so sore from a match. But they could see my teeth marks on you, my hands,” and Kota isn’t giving him time to think right now.

Both their sweats hurriedly shoved down but Kota sits up across his lap to finish undressing them both, even as Kenny tries to kick his feet free. It’s uncoordinated and the opposite of smooth in every way and he could not give a fuck.

It’s as familiar and strange as all of this, the overwhelming want to have as much skin on skin contact with Kota as possible. Maybe a few years ago, he would have pushed back, flipped himself up and over, taken a bit of control, ready to ride this whirlwind.

Right now, he just rubs his feet against the back of Kota’s calves as they lay together, still for a moment. That weight is back, Kota holding him down, and Kenny doesn’t know how he’s survived a fucking second of his life missing this. Missing them.

“You gonna follow through on that? Gonna shut me up?” He pushes and Kota shakes himself, getting back the intensity he’d shed for that small soft moment. Kenny experiences a quick pang of regret, but it washes away with his next shallow breath. There was time later for tender. Right now? He wants to be wrecked by this stupidly beautiful man.

Kota doesn’t answer with words. He grabs at Kenny, ruthlessly handling him, thumbs hard and pressed into his nipples, so much that it hurts but Kenny can’t voice that before he’s maneuvered onto his belly.  
  
“Try to keep it down, Kenny, this isn’t a love hotel,” Kota says and Kenny wants to laugh at Kota for sounding like something out of the cheesiest jgv’s but he is caught in a moan that sounds like a gut punch.  
  
Kota has spread him open but instead of a slick finger or two, it's his tongue.   
  
Tears in his eyes, for an entirely different reason now, Kenny pushes back and pulls away, being undone by Kota, his too clever mouth and the hands back on his hips.  
  
He tries to muffle himself in the bed but everything is scattering in his head, he feels like he’ll drown if he can’t make noise.  
  
Kota pulls away to laugh at him, just a little, stretching to grab at something on the nearby bedside table  and Kenny isn’t sure he knows what sort of sound he makes in response.   
  
He’s pretty sure that he will die if Kota stops now.  
  
But Kota doesn’t make him wait, and Kenny arches his back, trying to relax, let go as Kota starts stretching him out with three fingers.  
  
It’s rough, the sting makes him hiss, and Kota stills for a moment, pulling out to add more lube, presses in just two fingers this time, stroking gently into him.  
  
Kota lulls him into almost a stupor with this change of pace, Kenny feels the desperation subside and instead this heat builds inside his core, making him shiver.  
  
And he stays that gentle course until he hits the right spot, where Kenny gives up any attempt at silence to just yell. The third finger slips inside again and the stretch doesn’t burn this time, it feels perfect, like he was made for this.  
  
“You should see what this looks like, what you look like with my fingers inside you. You’re beautiful, Kenny,” Kota says. Kenny blinks the sweat out of his eyes and flails a foot uselessly at Kota.  
  
“Oh my god, do not talk about my ass like that, I can’t handle it,” he groans, even though the praise stokes the fire in his belly higher.   
  
“You seem to be handling it pretty well. And I think it's a very nice ass,” Kota says, cheerful as he makes Kenny writhe.   
  
Kenny gets another reprieve as Kota stops, reaches around and sighs to himself.  
  
“You ok? What’s wrong?” Kenny pulls himself back into focus. Kota bends down and kisses him dead centre on the small of his back.  
  
“Left the condoms in the bathroom. I will be back in a second,” and he clambers off Kenny. Kenny feels the lack of Kota on him as strongly as he felt the weight of the actual man.  
  
He stamps down the spark of insecurity and yells at the closed bathroom door, not moving from the bed. Honestly, he’s not sure if he can move until Kota finishes him off.  
  
“So this is your evil plan? Get me worked up and abandon me? This is cruel, Bu-san,” Kenny complains as he savours the buzz flowing through him.  
  
Kota opens the door again, clutching a few foil packets in his hand. He crosses the room so fast, like it’s hurting him to be separate.  
  
“Kenny, be quiet,” Kota says and leans over Kenny to kiss him. He smiles quickly.  
  
“I brushed my teeth,” Kota whispers and Kenny’s laughing again into the minty fresh kiss.  
  
He can’t even begin to remember when he had this much fun during sex. Kota has cracked open the holes he’d welded together in his heart but they were filling with something better now. 

It’s strangely quiet as Kota pushes into him, urging him to raise his hips, one hand back pressing bruises along his upper thighs, one hand on the back of his neck, pushing his face into the bed.

Kenny tries to blink away tears, not from pain but from being overwhelmed, white hot heat piercing him from the base of his spine, travelling though his body.

Kota doesn’t wait for him to adjust, the way he would have, back in the day. The easy familiarity that they’ve slipped into so fast, seems to be enough for Kota to start to move.

“Fuck, fuck, you have to, I gotta,” Kenny finds himself yelling muffled into the bed. Kota is silent, the room is silent except for the slap of flesh pounding into Kenny, but he grabs the sweaty curls at the nape of Kenny’s neck, so that he can’t hide away.

Kenny can’t stand it, the electric pulse thrumming under his skin and the way he’s being exposed. He wants to shy away, to keep some of his reaction under control.

Kota is ruthless, as strong and unyielding as he’d been pulling Kenny into the hug that had brought about this reignition of their spark. He’s losing his own composure as he drops Kenny’s head and just holds him still.

There isn’t an escape from this, and Kenny has never known this, never thought this, that this was what he’d been scared of needing, wanting.

He has Kota’s absolute attention. In this moment, the world doesn’t exist, its just him and Kota, their bodies giving and taking. Kenny can’t keep coherent thoughts in his head, he can’t even begin to be embarrassed about the noises he’s making, the way he tries to chase Kota’s movement, and is held down.

He wants it to never end, he wants it to end right that second before his heart bursts.

Kota, connecting with him in the strange shared brainspace they have melded into, reaches to grab at his cock, and its only two nasty little down twists of his wrist before Kenny wails, coming all over Kota’s hand.

But Kota doesn’t seem to stop, just fucking into him so hard that Kenny is being pushed along the bed. He makes little grunts as he thrusts, and they, plus Kota’s cock are going to be the cause of Kenny’s death.

“Please, Bu-san, Kota, please I need you to come. Come in me, mark me up,” Kenny pants up at him, feeling the sharp, almost unbearable rush of pleasure-pain of being overused.

Kota sighs, and slumps over his back, and Kenny knows he’s blushing full body again, because even through the condom, that pulsing heat is there.

They lay there quietly, Kota just breathing softly, Kenny gulping in air as he tries to get some sort of thought process back.

“Did I break you?” Kota asks, as he pulls out and Kenny can’t contain a murmur of discomfort. It’s too embarrassing to say out loud, but he almost wishes that they could stay conjoined. 

Kota almost as deep inside of him physically as he is emotionally.

‘I’m…fuck. I think you ruined me,” and Kenny’s laughing, tears pricking his eyes. because he’s being flooded with everything he’s trying to hold back.

Kota rolls them over so that they face one another again, and wraps his arms around Kenny until he can get the gulping sob laughs under control.

They are both sticky from sweat and come and as their bodies cool, the comfort from the heat ebbs.

“I need to shower, at least quickly,” Kenny says, apologetically, trying to get out of Kota’s hard grasp. He goes to stand up but thumps back down on the bed, wincing. 

Kota’s at his side, instantly, helping him stand. They shuffle their way into the shower, too small for two large men, but Kenny doesn’t care that they are pressed so close water can barely pass in between them.

His whole world has narrowed down to Kota, and that’s enough right now. Kota’s hands stroking his back, Kota’s body he leans into, sagging his own against him, because he’s not exactly sure how his legs are going to hold up. 

Out of the steam of the shower Kota dries himself off briskly, and then fondly helps Kenny, still trying to come back into himself. As Kota leads him back to the bed, Kenny clicks back in. He’s more settled, centred in a way he’d forgotten but still, himself. Maybe more himself then he's been for years. 

“You said you’d wreck me, and you did a good job, but I think I’ll be just fine,” Kenny says smugly. Kota looks at him, impassively.

“Give me an hour or two, I’m not in my 20′s anymore,’ Kota grumbles. Kenny stills, thinking about being fucked again. He wants it, hungers deep down inside, but he also knows he’s out of practise. 

And for all his attempts at tough talk, Kota would be horrified if he actually caused him harm.

“No? That’s fine, you know it’s fine,” Kota asks, reassuringly when he doesn’t immediately answer. 

Kenny wonders when its going to stop surprising him, the decency, the kindness, the strength and nobility of Kota. He knows Kota doesn’t want to be idolised, but he can’t help it, just a little. 

There’s part of him that just expects to thrown aside once he’s not giving what other people want. For all his fears and uncertainties, Kenny is coming to understand for what feels like the first time in his life, that Kota isn’t that man.  He may spend the rest of his life learning it, but he hopes he won’t ever forget or regress.

He’d been too young, cocky and desperate to achieve at any cost, before. He isn’t that person anymore. And Kota isn’t the same either, as easy as they blend together. Kota is refined and polished from his younger self, he’s so certain, strong and sure. 

“Ahhh, I think, maybe that my ass is out of commission for the night. I want it but…I think I would just pass out,” Kenny admits sheepishly. Kota doesn’t mock him or push, just continues to hold him.

“On the other hand…I think…no I know. I want to suck you off. I miss that, I miss you in me, in my mouth, ” Kenny says and feels smug about the way Kota tenses up, reacting.

 _It’s not just me, it’s not just me, he wants me just as bad_ , Kenny thinks triumphantly. Self doubt had been a companion for so long, and he’s working on fighting it, but sometimes he feels the peace reassurance brings, and he’s grateful.

“You are ridiculous,” Kota says, fondly, and plays with Kenny’s hair. Kenny isn’t sure if that's a yes or no right now, but it doesn’t matter. For the moment, he’s happy to doze, Kota curled around him, like a particularly overly affectionate cat.

The next little while is a blur. Its the early hours of the morning, but Kenny keeps coming awake into Kota’s grip, having to settle, readjust and then letting himself sink back down, syncing himself up with Kota’s slow measured breath. 

There’s no room for the background static of plans, of work, of stress, just this, just them together. 

Later on, the sun cracks through blinds and Kenny blearily wakes up to a recently abandoned warm patch behind him. Kota pads over to him, wordlessly offering a cup of coffee. They drink in silence, Kenny shaking the sleep from his brain, Kota looking a little amused by whatever is running through his own head.

“Okay! Ok. Morning coffee achieved. So, I believe I said something about dick sucking?” Kenny says brightly and Kota raises an eyebrow at him for waiting until he had a mouthful of coffee.

“You did, but it’s fine. I...we got a little heated last night, you don’t have to do anything you aren’t ready for,” Kota says, and Kenny is determined, that if it's what Kota wants, he’s gonna get his mouth on that dick as soon as possible.

Kenny gets up, stretches out the kinks in his back, pays attention to and then dismisses the twinge and pinch in his neck. He walks over to Kota, and pushes him a little against the back of the couch where he’s leaning and then drops to his knees.

He’s grateful for the plush of Kota’s carpet because it was a little fast, but then he looks up at Kota, who reaches out, holding his head, rubbing the soft, sensitive skin behind his ears. 

Kota’s humming under his breath, and Kenny shuffles a little closer, putting his hands on the band of the sweatpants they’d so hurriedly discarded last night. He can’t even think about his own total nudity, he does not care at all. He just looks up at Kota, waiting for a yes or no.

Kota rolls his eyes a little but a smile twitches across his lips. In this, just like in the ring, Kenny feels that connection, that simpatico. He pulls Kota’s cock out of his pants, half hard already, and just holds it for a second.

It’s power over Kota, but it’s still exchange, it's still sharing to have him like this.

Kenny can’t help himself, he leans forward to kiss the base briefly, just to make Kota twitch before sliding down, sinking down.

Kota’s hands don’t move from his head, but he doesn’t hold Kenny down, lets him set the pace. Kenny keeps looking up at him, eyes blue and wide, as he works himself at a steady pace, gradually taking more and more inside.

Kenny is losing himself in this. He wants Kota to force him down, he wants to spend an eternity teasing Kota, he wants to live the rest of his life down here, on his knees for the man that came back for him, after it all.

Kota’s cock is heavy on his tongue, the taste a little bitter but welcome. He’s relearning the tricks he used to have down to a tee, the way a little bit of teeth make Kota shake and involuntarily thrust forward, the way he moans as Kenny traces the thick vein running along the underside.

Kenny pulls off and Kota fights it for a second, bewildered before focusing on him.

“…fuck my mouth, Bu-san,” Kenny says and the nickname has never had this effect on Kota before, because his eyes widen and the hands on Kenny’s head tighten. Kenny lets his mouth go slack, lets the tension from his whole body drain out.

He puts himself, as he has so many times before, more then he can count in the total care of Kota Ibushi.

Kota doesn’t just push in fast straight away. He tilts Kenny’s face up a little, focusing intently on his cock sliding in and out of Kenny’s reddened mouth. 

Kenny breathes through his nose, and basks in the power of having Kota’s full attention again. He shifts on his knees, relieving the pressure, removing everything but the solid press of Kota down his throat.

“I’m going ahead,” Kota says softly and Kenny wants to remember the bad joke he’s going to make about head later on, but there’s no space because Kota thrusts in and there is nothing else. 

His mouth is stretched, his throat stings and he’s content. Content to let himself provide for Kota, to have this need satiated. He doesn’t think he could ever get sick of hearing Kota hitch in his breath, silent except for the slick sounds resonating through both their ears.

Kenny chokes a little at a particularly rough thrust, and Kota backs off immediately, as Kenny catches his breath, feels the pounding of his own heart.

“Ok?” Kota asks simply and Kenny nods enthusiastically, not trusting himself to speak. He wants to tell Kota everything, that he’s so sorry, that he’s never stopped loving him, that everything is a little worse when Kota isn’t beside him, but he can’t bear that now so he tries to show it.

Sucking down Kota’s cock without skill, just a voracious hunger until Kota loses his control, his carefulness and he holds Kenny still like a vice, as he fucks into Kenny’s throat. 

“I’m going…to paint your face, Kenny,” Kota says, almost grimly, and pulls out roughly as Kenny almost gags at the speed. He closes his eyes and opens his mouth, waiting for it, as Kota rubs himself furiously. 

Kenny feels the come stripe his face, cheeks and then it hit his tongue. He opens his eyes and forces his sore lips into a smirk as he watches Kota watch him lick his lips, swallowing.

Kota yanks him to his feet and kisses him feverishly. Kenny just lets it happen, sagging against Kota, and he realises he’s hard himself, almost like an afterthought. Kota wraps their left hands around his cock and Kenny feels his knees buckle.

“I want to see it, I want you to come, Kenny,” Kota says, firmly and it’s that want, and the adrenaline buzzing through him that triggers him off, shaking as he comes, dizzy with the force.

They stand there, pressed up against each other until Kenny’s knees begin to buckle again, and Kota begins to fuss, pushing and pulling at him until he’s slumped down, sitting on the couch. Kota comes over with a damp face cloth quickly, and tenderly wipes the smeared mess off of Kenny’s face, cleans their hands.

Kenny starts to thank him, but stops as he hears the rasp in his own voice. Kota looks supremely smug as he brings Kenny a glass of water. Kenny sighs, but can’t stop feeling fulfilled and relieved, all the way down to his bones.

There was something right about this, there was everything right about this. Restored stronger then ever before, the red thread of fate tying them together as tight as it could.

He’s leaning against Kota’s shoulder as he hears his phone start to ring from the bedside table. Kota’s up in a flash, grabs the phone and it’s Matt.

Kenny motions for the phone, and Kota just swipes accept and then presses speaker on as he passes it to Kenny. Kenny looks at him, and Kota grins innocently back.

  _I’m going to get you back for this, I need some sort of revenge,_ Kenny thinks before gritting his teeth, blushing for what seems like the thousandth time in 24 hours.

“Kenny? Hey. Just wanted to, you know, touch base. See how your neck was,” Matt says, a little stilted, and it hurts Kenny’s heart a little at the same time that it fills him with hope.

“Hey. I’m good! Doing well!” Kenny rasps out and Kota bursts into laughter that he tries to smother.

“Dude what the fuck, are you geting sick? You sound awful,” Matt says, familiar worry in his tone. Kenny is mentally cursing himself for every throat fucked out syllable he’s managing.

“No no, I’m fine. I slept in, so I sound a little rough,” he tries, and then tries to cover the phone as Kota laughs harder and gasps out “Kenny! Liar!”

Kenny can start to feel himself amused by the absurdity of it all too, trying to get Matt not to worry about this extremely avoidable situation.

“Wait…is someone there with you? Is that Ibushi?” Matt’s voice sharpens a little, and Kenny winces, mentally floundering around how to say yes, how to make himself talk about it.

“Yeah…he’s, um. He’s helping me with my neck,” Kenny finally gets out and now Kota is sitting on the floor because laughing has clearly affected him too much. Kenny can’t help the infectious glee rise inside him either. Kota’s feelings flooding in.

“So you are with Ibushi, he’s ‘helping’ you with your neck and you sound like you swallowed gravel,” Matt starts and then is silent.

“Kenny, goddammit!’ Matt says explosively and hangs up. Kenny waits for a second and joins in on Kota’s breathless laughter. He feels like he just got caught by his parents staying up past his bedtime to play games.

He doesn’t have even a minute to worry about Matt’s reaction, if it was genuinely upset before his phone chimes with a text. It’s Nick.

‘Bro, Matt says that if you choke to death on Ibushi’s dick before we get the chance to meet in the ring, he’s going to be mildly annoyed with you forever,’ and Kenny’s laughing again, relief making his head spin.

Kota walks over, sits down, arranges Kenny so he’s wrapped around his back, resting his head on Kenny’s shoulder.

“Are you alright?” Kota asks again, and Kenny sighs deeply, warm and satisfied and a little more sure of everything.

“I’m perfect. I'm good as long as you are,” Kenny replies, not giving a fuck how it makes him sound. How it exposes how much he craves this, needs Kota. 

Kota kisses his neck as they rest again, secure in their bond of body and spirit, of love rekindled from the embers that never went out.


End file.
